


Heavy Crown

by britishbossy



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Breakup, Cannibalism, Episode: s04e03 The Final Problem, Explicit Language, F/M, Gun Violence, Psychological Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-18 03:07:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14844482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/britishbossy/pseuds/britishbossy
Summary: One month before the events at Sherrinford, Mycroft broke up with Clara for her safety. However, his sister is planning to make him suffer in the most abominable way.This is a rewrite of The Final Problem, inclueding Clara Oswald as another victim in Eurus' game.ship: Myclara





	1. Intro

Heavy Crown

 

The smoke was slowly filling the room, steaming up in front of him and almost blocking his view. He didn't mind, since he wasn't looking anywhere. He kept staring into nothing, his mind spinning around the past hours at Sherrinford. Mycroft was still not sure how they all had made it out alive of this nightmare. Sherlock had solved it in the end, had found John in the very same fountain where their sister had drowned Victor Trevor over twenty years ago. They had called for help and Mycroft had been found by a task force, undamaged himself, at least physically. But even though he was alive, he wished he was dead. It was his fault that they had gone through this horrible experience and nothing would ever erase the guilt that was eating him alive right now. So, he kept smoking, the package on the table in front of him half empty already. He didn't mind the smoke around him, which made it harder to breathe every minute or the ashes on his expensive waistcoat. Finally, the tar was beginning to make him dizzy and he was rather sure that he was hallucinating when a face appeared in front of him. Mycroft knew that he should have been startled at that moment but his mind was too far gone to care. So, he just blinked stupidly and tried to focus his gaze on the person who had crouched down in front of him.

"I think you've had enough".

Clara took the burning cigarette from his fingers and stamped it in the ashtray on the table. Her face and her posture were calm, she was already managing the trauma. She had always been stronger than him. He looked at her, unable to say a word or to make a movement. It was evident what she was about to tell him.

_You're sick. You and your entire family are lunatics and today your psychotic sister nearly killed me! Stay the hell away from me or I swear I will put you back there..._

The voice inside his head stopped when he felt her hand gently touch his.

......................................................................................................................................................

Four hours earlier

 

"For God's sake, stop it", Sherlock sighed and let his head drop.

"Why?", his brother pressed, his cruel expression still in place.

"Because, on balance, even your Lady Brakenell was more convincing". Mycroft's face fell.

"I thought you liked my Lady Brakenell", he joked quietly, defeated. He had put on a show for the sake of his brother and his best friend and Sherlock had seen straight through it. When had he started to survee the master that had tought him to detect lies? The older Holmes didn't remember but he felt a mixture of pride and sorrow at his little brother's deduction. Sherlock explained his behaviour to John and then, not without regret pointed the gun at the elder Holmes. As it was supposed to be, Mycroft kept on telling himself, as a slight sting of fear began rising in his gut.

"Not in the face, though, please", he requested. He had promised his brain to the.... after all. Sherlock asked him for his suggestion.

"Well, I guess there must be a heart somewhere inside me. I don't imagine it to be much of a target but...".

He looked up and saw his brother aiming to smile. It was enough for the lump in his throat to grow even bigger and he adjusted his tie.

"Why don't we try for that?", he added.

It was the right thing to do. He couldn't put Sherlock through the horrible experience of losing his best friend, again and it was his fault that they were in this mess, after all. He had failed everything. His sister. His brother. Their parents. Even the woman he loved.

......................................................................................................................................................

 

Three weeks earlier

 

The suitcase flew down the stairs and landed right in front of the door with a loud noise. Mycroft stood in the kitchen, trying his best not to flinch. A few seconds later, he heard her footsteps rushing down and she cursed when she came to a halt. She ran back upstairs again and returned only a minute later.

He carefully sipped his tea, tried to calm down his breathing and closed his eyes briefly. It would be over soon. The sound of her steps was suddenly close to him and he heard her stopping behind him in the door frame. Clara hesitated, possibly she was looking at him, hoping to get a reaction. When he didn't give her one, but drank his tea, she rushed past him towards the kitchen counter and opened a few drawers.

"I believe you have checked those twice already", he stated and saw her tensing at his words. She turned towards him, her jaw set and her expression angry.

"Can't wait to get rid of me, can you?", she spat. Her hair was a mess, the fringe falling into her eyes, her blouse had jerked out of her pants and her cheeks were flushed. Mycroft tried his best not to look at her ruined eye make-up.

"You know, you're the one who did something wrong?", she pressed but didn't give him time to answer and went for the door.

"I do not see how I-", he began.

"You fucked her!!", she screamed and whirled around to face him once more.

"You fucked your colleague who is about thirty years older than you in your bloody office!!On your bloody desk!!" Her voice seemed to jump over itself.

"Yes, I remember it quite vividly", he said coldly. She flinched and tried not to let her tears escape her eyes once more.

"Who are you?", she asked him and looked him up and down as if she was seeing him for the first time. Mycroft did not answer and expected her to flung herself at him to punch him (she had done so yesterday). Instead, the young school teacher took a step back, her tears finally falling onto her cheeks. Tears of anger, tears of hatred.

"You disgust me", she breathed before she turned and walked back along the corridor. He heard her drop her keys off into the bowl next to the wardrope and get her jacket and suitcase. The last one. Outside, a car huped. Then, the door was opened and closed again. And then silence. He stood motionless for a few minutes before he pulled out his phone to call his PA.

"Everything settled, sir", Anthea's voice answered him.

"The flight will go in two hours, London Heathrow to...", she hesitated, giving her boss time to call it off, stop it and hold her back. But they both knew he wouldn't.

"...to New York City."

"Is the high school informed?", he asked again, although he already knew the answer.

"Confirmed, sir."

"You stay with her until she steps on American soil", Mycroft's orders were clear.

"Yes, sir."

"Good." He hung up.

It was done. Clara Oswald would begin a new life in the United States of America, far away from her ex and everything that had to do with him. Mycroft losened his tie carefully, finding it hard to breathe and he moved to the living room when he realised he was on the verge of a panic attack.

 


	2. Another player

Sherrinford

"And here we are at least". The recorded voice of James Moriarty was echoing from the stone grey walls, as gentle as ever, almost hiding the madness that crawled underneath the surface.

"Holmes killing Holmes".

Mycroft swallowed hard, his eyes fixed on his brother's. The last thing he was ever going to see should not be the lauf of a gun. So, he smiled at Sherlock, trying to tell him that it was alright. The detective looked ready to shoot him and yet, Mycroft could see that he was fighting his instincts which told him the opposite.

_It's fine. She'll kill me anyway, after everything that I have done to her._

"Mycroft?"

He blinked. Somebody outside of this room had just said his name. But it had not been his sister, nor it had it been the voice of Moriarty. Could it be...?

"Mycroft, don't!"

A heavy shiver ran down his spine, and not only fear but blank panic settled inside his chest.

"Clara?"

He looked at his brother and then to Doctor Watson, hoping like mad that for the first time in his life he was mistaken. But John's reaction told him otherwise.

"Oh my god", he breathed and Mycroft followed the man's eyes to one of the screens.

It was her. She was looking at a camera from underneath, apparently located in some corner between the wall and the ceiling. Her surroundings gave away that she was not anywhere near them. It looked as if she was inside some tunnel system. She looked so young, her hair in a pony tail and a yellow jumper beneath her dress. And she was scared.

"Mycroft, don't you dare! Don't you dare let her-"

The screen was turned off all of a sudden and Mycroft felt the last bits of his sanity crumble to dust. He stepped forward, his brother and the gun forgotten.

"Where is she?", he spoke into the room. "What have you done to her?"

There was no reaction for a moment and the three men stood motionless, shocked beyond belief. "Eurus!", Mycroft exclaimed, putting all of his fear unintentionally into his voice. Their sister appeared on the screen then, smiling sweetly.

"Well, wasn't that heroic?", she began. "The great, selfless Mycroft Holmes, giving his life for the happiness of his little brother. Thinking that nobody will miss him and originally I thought you were right there." She paused, using the silence to annoy them even more and make they squirm and jump like puppets.

"Apparently, someone will miss you. I think of that pretty little school teacher. She might be heart broken by your loss", she pouted dramatically.

"If she lives, that is", she went on then and Mycroft felt himself sway sideways so hard that John caught him by the arm. But he recovered instantly.

"Leave her alone", he spoke directly into the camera. "I am the one who held you captive here. She has nothing to do with this."

The woman on the screen shook her head.

"Oh, but she does. Very much so, for you _love her_. Why would I put you down when killing her will make you suffer so much more? Did you really think I'd let you escape so easily? Dying...dying is only one small step over to the other side. But to keep you alive long enough to let you suffer... well, that's much more fun, isn't it?" She grinned cruelly.

"She is not far away, though. Right here, to be precise. Right under your feet."

The catacombs. Mycroft scanned the map of Sherrinford inside his head. There were engine rooms, storages, and...the cells of the cannibals. His eyes went wide.

"No....no, don't. Listen, I'll do anything. Anything you want but don't hurt her."

_Not her. Never her._

Eurus nodded. "She can be saved, though. If you live to do so. However, it's only a matter of an hour before I release my friends into the catacombs. And they are quite hungry, I imagine.There are a lot of buttons up here I could press. I could also flood the entire thing down there. So you better be quick. Or poor Clara won't see the next day." She smiled once more and the screen turned black.

"No! No! Eurus, no, please! Please!" Mycroft was aware that he was begging but he could think of no other option. What was he supposed to do? He couldn't die and leave her here. He had to save her. He had to get to her! He had no idea how Eurus had found Clara but the only thing he knew was that she held her captive and was ready to kill her. To make him suffer. As he was right now. He had never been more scared in his life.

"Three minutes?", Sherlock asked out of nowhere and he turned to face his brother and Doctor Watson once more.

"It took her three minutes to do this to ourselves?" Mycroft wasn't able to follow. What was the point of time now? But then Sherlock lifted the gun and held it under his chin.

"Well, not on my watch."

This time he was fading out of his body. On the one hand, he wanted to rip the gun off his brother's grip and shoot himself instead, on the other hand, he wanted to tell him to kill Doctor Watson because he didn't trust either of them to save Clara. He needed to know that she was going to be fine. He went numb when Sherlock started to count backwards from ten. He just heard Eurus' protests far in the background, unable to work it out, unable to stop staring at his brother in pure and utter horror. Suddenly, he felt a sharp sting on the back of his neck and saw Sherlock dropping the gun. Then, everything went dark.

 


End file.
